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Tuesday, 17 June 2014

Housemaid's arse

Down:

I have lumbago. Lumbago! This is the least glamorous ailment I have had since I caught ringworm from a horse in Morocco. Actually, it doesn't even have the exoticism of Moroccan horse ringworm. It sounds like something an elderly, stout, 1930s housemaid would get. Also, Wikipedia indicates 'lumbago' is just a generic term for 'lower back pain'. Symptoms: inability to stand up straight for past 48 hours and posture reminiscent of Mrs Overall, or indeed Mrs Doyle, or perhaps a geriatric crab that has lost a couple of legs in a fight with a seagull. Unsurprisingly, lower back pain. Loss of sense of humour. Self-pity. Lying on floor. L, who is home "revising" (= eating Daims and watching Top Gear) saw me off to the doctor with an enthusiastic "maybe you'll come back IN A WHEELCHAIR!" Both boys suggested I should be sent to Gary Larsson's horse hospital to be shot. Your concern is precious to me. I had to pay L €5 to walk the dog.

This study leave business is ridiculous for a 12 year old. Also, most of the exams don't require you to know any facts, barring the date of the creation of the Belgian state, and it is far too late for any of us to understand the accord des participes passés des verbes pronominaux.

Up:
The doctor, in her infinite Belgium wisdom, has given me - in addition to painkillers - 30 Valium to treat the lumbago. Which is interesting. Initially I thought it wasn't doing anything at all, but by the time it got to this morning and I had fallen upstairs then started drooling on my keyboard, I had to accept that it was probably doing something. I can almost walk now, so that's progress. Whether I can think or speak is another matter.

25 comments:

Anonymous
said...

100% I absolutely love your blog. Your droll sense of humour is the one thing that is able to shake off the black cloud that sometimes follows me around.I have been in an absolutely foul mood all day due to a sequence of rows with my annoying husband. However, the cloud is lifting and moving away a little bit now, I can feel a chink of positivity creeping in. Wishing you a speedy recovery from the lumbago and looking forward to your news when you can share it.

For some reason my daughter's homework today is to research urban legends about Belgium/ Brussels and be able to talk about some famous Belgians. I am very tempted to tell her all about the guy with the weird bench in your neighbourhood and about Queen Fabiola's hair. Or about yourself, a famous blogger that writes like a dream and always hits the nail on the head!

Gotta love those benzos..you care so much less about the pain. 3 weeks only mind, or you'll become a lumbago junkie. How about having quinsy next? Sounds so much more 19th century than peritonsillar abcess. Oops, forgot the empathy...I'm hammering clinical during revision cos normally I rely heavily on the 'just being nice to patients' instead of actual knowledge..so, poor you! Problem is, you're so funny about it, it's hard to wish for a speedy resolution if you're going to be so entertaining.

My darling husband (who works for the ambulance service) calls me "Spazmoid" when my back goes Mrs Overall on me. Too many years of falling off loony horses.

Seriously, hope you're feeling better very soon, but in case you're not could you please do lots of whining on here for us all to enjoy? xxx

Oh rotten. Hope it gets better soon, but in the meantime, I thoroughly enjoyed your dribbling account. I'm actually a bit envious of your prescription - I went to the doc yesterday to present her with a lump on my finger, only to be sent home with a diagnosis of osteo-arthritis. Osteo-bloody-arthritis. I suddenly feel about 112. And she never even mentioned valium, the old cow. Pft.

I'm sorry to hear about your lumbago and hope the benzos are helping. I love my dose of Belgian Waffle because you write so well, whether you're off your face or not.

When twisted up like a pretzel with back pain my other half calls me Mrs Overall, which makes me laugh and hurts my back more. But I can't lift anything high enough to throw at him, and he knows it!

Lumbago sounds like such an old ladies condition when you are young, along with vertigo and the dreaded menopause. Then you hit middle age (me, not you) and realize what you thought was old then, isn't, and it's the condition that makes you feel ancient...while your brain is screaming "No, not yet, I'm still young"

P.S I have a goat named Mrs Overall, who walks like her/me/you due to a foot condition.

Watching him (Mrs O is a him, hope I haven't shattered any illusions there!) hobble round the paddock at the speed of a glacier yesterday and it reminded me that his name suits him so well. All we need is a jangly door bell, tea tray and macaroon in the paddock and life for him (and me) would be complete.

I should mention Mrs 0 hobbles around the paddock due to foot rot, not back pain. This can be nasty in goats and his is caused by his inability to do what most male goats do without thinking, spraying BETWEEN their front legs. Mrs O hits his hooves every time!

100% gutted we moved to New Zealand before Acorn Antiques The Musical! was written and performed.

I love Mrs O even more now that (i) I know he is male and (ii) his problems are caused by peeing on his own feet. Truly, he is my spirit guide. Actual tears of laughter at mental vision of him (it's been a long day).

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